11291

Currently Reading

The Mirror and the Light
Hilary Mantel, Ben Miles
Progress: 4 %
Fortunes of War: The Balkan Trilogy
Rachel Cusk, Olivia Manning
The Inner Life of Cats: The Science and Secrets of Our Mysterious Feline Companions
Thomas McNamee, Bob Reed
The Inner Life of Cats: The Science and Secrets of Our Mysterious Feline Companions
Thomas McNamee
Merlin Trilogy
Mary Stewart
Progress: 612/928 pages
The Mirror and the Light
Hilary Mantel

Recently Added

Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley, a Native African and a Slave - Phillis Wheatley, Melissa Summers
The Diaries of Adam and Eve - Walter Cronkite, Betty Buckley, Mandy Patinkin, Mark Twain
Quidditch Through the Ages - Full Cast, Andrew Lincoln, J.K. Rowling
"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." ― Mae West


"The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read." ― Mark Twain


"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea." ― Robert A. Heinlein


"Always be a first rate version of yourself and not a second rate version of someone else." ― Judy Garland
Find me elsewhere:
My Leafmarks Profile
Project Hamlet

Discworld: Here is your bimonthly belated reminder ...

Wyrd Sisters  - Terry Pratchett

... that the next group read is upon us and has (umm, theoretically) already started, on August 1, to be precise.

 

(I swear I was going to post about this earlier this time around, but oh well ...)

 

The book is Wyrd Sisters, the second of the Witches subseries -- and the first book in which the full coven appears: Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Magrat.  In appropriate pre-Halloween Bingo mood, it also features a ghost.  In fact, it's a pretty great book all around.

 

And now all that remains is for me to leave you with one of the best beginnings in the entire Discworld series (so far as I've read it, at least):

   "The wind howled.  Lightning stabbed at the earth erratically, like an inefficient assassin.   Thunder rolled back and forth across the dark, rain-lashed hills.

   The night was as black as the inside of a cat.  It was the kind of night, you could believe, on which gods moved men as though they were pawns on the chessboard of fate.  In the middle of this elemental storm a fire gleamed among the dripping furze bushes like the madness in a weasel's eye.  It illuminated three hunched figures.  As the cauldron bubbled an eldritch voice shrieked: 'When shall we three meet again?'

   There was a pause.

   Finally another voice said, in far more ordinary tones: 'Well, I can do next Tuesday.'"